By Chivalry Betrayed
by Lenora Birch
Summary: A disillusioned knight, optomistic rider, shy noblewoman, and several other unlikely heroes band together to try to save a country that doesn't want their help.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Anything recognizable belongs to Tamora Pierce. Please don't sue me, as I'm an unemployed high school student with no money.

**Chapter One**

The Dancing Dove was bustling with even more noise and activity than it was usually, full of revelry and merrymaking. Throughout Tortall, people were celebrating the anniversary of King Jonathan's coronation and the residents of Lower Corus were no exception. The patrons of the tavern were drinking and laughing, toasting their ruler's long and prosperous reign. That is, all but one.

A young woman was sitting at the end of the bar, turned on her stool so her back was resting against the wall. Blue eyes surveyed the common room over the mug she was sipping ale from, her dark eyebrows pulled down and her brow furrowed in a pensive frown. After swallowing a few mouthfuls, she lowered the mug and placed it back on the wooden counter, revealing an unremarkable nose and mouth above a strong jaw and cleft chin. Tucking a few strands of dark brown hair that had escaped from the horsetail that hung to her shoulders behind her ear, she then absentmindedly straightened the rough leather tunic that covered her small form. However, it hardly helped the appearance of her attire, which was covered in traveling dust and horsehair. Her dark brown cloak had a stiff coating of mud along the bottom, and her boots were caked with it as well. Her shirt and pants were almost passably clean, though the faint outlines of old stains were visible.

Running her index finger along the rim of her mug, the woman looked at it for a moment, then picked it up and drained its contents. Slouching further against the wall, she slammed the now empty tankard down on the counter again in a decidedly moody fashion. As she adjusted her belt, she heard her sword rattle in its scabbard. Her weapon was the only unusual thing about her, as commoners did not typically carry long blades in such an open fashion. Its hilt was plain and ended in a simple round pommel, and like its owner, was covered in a thin layer of dust.

Out of habit, she lifted the hilt a few inches to make sure the blade was clear in its sheath, then allowed it to drop back in place with a metallic click. Releasing the weapon, she caught the barkeeper's attention. When he was standing in front of her, she gestured to her mug and grunted, "Ale."

The bartender looked at the young woman oddly. "Ye sure ye don't want something stronger, missy?" he asked. "Tis the anniversary of His Majesty's coronation, ye know. Surely ye'll be wanting to celebrate his rule, aye?"

The women fixed the older man with a cool stare. "My name is not 'missy', and you, sirrah, will either address me with respect or not at all," she replied coldly, resting her hand on the pommel of her sword. "So, you think the anniversary of King Jonathan's coronation is something to celebrate, do you?"

The man, startled by the young woman's cold demeanor and sudden question, nodded quickly. "Aye, lady, we celebrate it every year," he blurted out. "His Majesty's been a good king."

"Then you should celebrate his birthday," she replied, leaning forward. "You are aware, of course, that the day of his coronation was also the day of one of the greatest acts of treason in our time. The fiefs of Eldorne and Tirragen joined with the traitorous Duke Roger and attempted to kill Jonathan to put his uncle on the throne. Therefore, by celebrating the day of his coronation, you are also celebrating an attempt on his life. But I'm sure you knew that, didn't you?"

The bartender stared at the young woman for a moment, then finally stuttered, "But we do celebrate his birthday, lady."

The woman gave a sigh of disgust and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes. "Ale," she said, waving her hand at the tankard as she repeated her earlier request. This time the man obliged without argument, hurrying to fill the mug from one of the kegs behind the counter. When she heard the mug being set down in front of her, she muttered her thanks without opening her eyes and listened to the barkeeper hurry off.

Reaching forward without sitting up, she reclaimed her tankard and drank deeply. Some of the foam stuck to her upper lip, and she lowered the mug and wiped it off, opening her eyes as she did. It was at that moment a group of men and women burst through the door, laughing and shouting. They were of varying ages- the youngest looked to be only in his older teens, and one of the women had grey streaks in her hair. In fact, the only similarities they all seemed to share were in the insignia of the Queen's Riders stitched on their tunics and their apparent tipsiness.

The young woman glanced at the rowdy group, a disapproving frown darkening her features. However, a look of recognition crossed her face, and the scowl was replaced a grin. Tankard in hand, she stood and strode over to where the new arrivals had sat down, schooling her expression into one of seriousness. Coming up behind one of the women, who had the bars of a group commander stitched to her tunic, she barked, "Group Commander Blythdin, please control your men!"

The woman stood and spun in one motion, her dirty blonde horsetail whipping around as she did. "Listen, you-" she began, but stopped when she saw who had addressed her. Her blue-green eyes widened in surprise, then she exclaimed, "Laura? Is that you?" Laughing, she clapped the other woman on the shoulder. "Sir Laura of Coa's Wood, home from wars. How long has it been?" she asked.

"Three years," replied the woman, whose name was obviously Laura. "You seem to have done well for yourself, Katherine," she observed, gesturing to the bars with her tankard. "Moved up through the ranks while I was fighting Scanrans."

Katherine shrugged. "Bandit attack," she said in way of explanation. "Someone has to take care of things back home while you knights are off fighting for the glory of Tortall."

The lady knight snorted. "Aye, glory," she repeated, sarcasm practically dripping from her words. "There's no glory in freezing near to death in a rundown old fort on the border, with no action but an occasional skirmish with a handful of raiders." Grunting, she took a drink from her tankard, staring off into nothingness with angry eyes.

The other woman raised an eyebrow, but said no more on the subject. Clapping her friend on the arm, she succeeded in startling her out of her reverie. "Come now, enough of that," she said, her tone jovial. "You obviously haven't had enough to drink with talk like that."

Laura gave a wry smile. "I think they've had more than enough to make up for the difference," she replied, gesturing to the other riders with a jerk of her head.

"Nonsense," Katherine protested. "The whole country is celebrating, why shouldn't you?"

"I already had to give the bartender a history lesson," the knight replied. "Don't tell me I need to give you one, too."

"Nay, I've heard it before," Katherine said, laughing. "Besides, you know I'm more book smart than you are."

Laura looked as though she would like to argue, but instead shrugged. "Aye, you've got me there," she agreed, nodding.

"See, you even admit to it," the Rider pointed out triumphantly. "So, since I'm more book smart than you, you should drink."

The knight laughed. "I'm afraid I don't quite follow your logic," she said, shaking her head. "Besides, I am drinking. I'm just enjoying myself responsibly."

"Responsibly?" Katherine repeated, throwing her hands up. "How do you enjoy yourself responsibly, especially on a holiday when no one else bothers?"

"I'm a knight," Laura replied, her voice carrying the simple conviction of one who had repeated herself more times than she could count. "Knights are supposed to be responsible."

"Good Goddess, Laura," Katherine exclaimed. "I know that there are knights who are enjoying themselves right now in irresponsible ways, and you know it as well. I thought going to war would disillusion you a bit."

Laura shook her head and sighed. "No reason to bring the gods into this, Katherine," she remarked. "And war did disillusion me, more than you know, but that doesn't mean I'm going to behave badly. I still honor the Code of Chivalry, even if no one else does." Taking a drink from her tankard, she grunted unhappily, then fell silent again.

"As brooding as ever, I see," the Rider commented quietly. She looked as though she wanted to say something else, but was distracted by a loud _thump_. Returning her attention back to the rest of the Riders, she discovered that the youngest had fallen off the bench, clearly unconscious. Many of the others were laughing, but instead of joining them, she crossed her and glared at the man sitting next to the younger Rider.

"Darin, I thought you were keeping an eye on him," she said, her tone implying that an explanation was need.

The man glanced up, his blue eyes obscured for a moment as lamplight flashed off his glasses. "I was," he replied. His voice was quiet, but not the hushed tone of someone who was ashamed, just quiet.

"And how many drinks did you let him have?" Katherine asked, her tone becoming a bit impatient.

"Five," the man replied, his tone still neutral.

"Five?" the group commander repeated, disbelief clear in her voice. "Why didn't you stop him?"

"I advised against it," the man replied, running a hand through his short, wavy red hair, "but he didn't listen."

"Darin, you are the second in command of this group," Katherine said in the monotonous tone of someone who had explained something many times before. "You do not advise, you order." Sighing, she gestured at the teenager who was sprawled on the floor. "Well, don't just leave him lying there. Put him back on the bench and prop him against the table or something."

The man, or Darin, as Katherine had called him, stood, swinging his long legs over the bench with unexpected grace. He was over a head taller than his commanding officer, but he followed her orders. Grabbing the young man under his arms as one might a small child, he lifted him with a grunt and sat him on the bench, resting his back against the table so he was sitting up. "There. Anything else?" he asked in a flat tone that made it difficult to tell whether he was being sarcastic or serious.

"Aye," Katherine replied, obviously choosing to take his remark seriously. "Talk to Laura. She's sulking again."

"I am not," protested the knight, who had glanced up at the sound of her name. "Besides, you can hardly order someone to be sociable."

"Of course you can," the group commander replied. "The training masters do it to pages all the time, what with serving at banquets and dancing at balls and the like. You're a knight, you ought to know that."

"I always managed to be assigned kitchen duty at banquets, and no one wanted to dance with a girl page," Laura pointed out.

"Well, whose fault is that?" Katherine retorted in the tone of someone launching into a familiar argument. "Perhaps if you dressed a bit more femininely-"

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced," Darin interrupted quietly, holding out a large hand. "My name is Darin Staver."

"Sir Laura of Coa's Wood," the knight replied, shaking the man's hand firmly.

"Katherine's mentioned you before, I think," the man remarked thoughtfully.

"Nothing too unflattering, I hope."

"No, not that I can remember."

"Oh, well, that's good, then," Laura replied, then fell silent. The two stood quietly for a moment, neither looking the other in the eye and both seemingly unable to think of something else to say.

Katherine sighed noisily. "You two are hopeless," she exclaimed. Grabbing a tankard from the table and ignoring the cry of protest that followed, she shoved the mug into Darin's hands. "Sit, drink, and try again when you're feeling more talkative." The man looked slightly confused but did as he was told, moving to the other end of the table to sit with a few of the other male riders, who began to tease him good naturedly. "You should do the same," she said as she turned to look at the knight, "but you're not a rider, so I can't really order you to."

Laura shrugged and sat as she was told, taking a sip from her tankard. "I don't think we're hopeless," she remarked after a moment.

"No, you are both impossible," Katherine replied. "Especially you. I would have thought all those hours of etiquette lessons you had to go through as a page would have at least taught you how to make small talk."

"I hated that class," the knight replied bitterly. "The Etiquette Master was never sure if a lady knight should observe the court manners of a noblewoman or a knight, so he made me learn both. It was ridiculous. I had to know how to bow and curtsy, lead and follow in all the dances we learned, even the courtly flirtations of both genders, which was the most absurd notion I've ever come across. Knight or no, I am a woman. I don't need to learn how to woo as a man." By the time she was finished speaking, her normally flat, monotone way of speaking had turned into an impassioned rant. Lifting her tankard, she drained the rest of its contents and slammed it back down on the table moodily, only to find Katherine grinning broadly at her. "What, pray tell, is so amusing?" she snapped irritably.

"You should drink more often," the rider advised. "You're never this opinionated. Whenever I told you that the Etiquette Master was a pompous old fool, you always told me to respect my elders then recited some nonsense about how a proper knight is courteous and how protocol is an important part of the Code of Chivalry."

"A proper knight is courteous," Laura protested, sounding like an insistent child. "I just didn't need know how to be courteous as both a man and a woman."

"Of course you didn't," Katherine replied, handing the knight's empty mug to a barmaid so it could be refilled. "Like I said, the Etiquette Master was a pompous old fool, but now's not the time to be worrying about such things." When the barmaid returned with a tankard of strong ale, the rider took it and pushed it into her friend's hands, slinging an arm around her shoulders in a comradely fashion. "Drink and be merry; no more of this sulking about your page years. You earned your shield, that's all that matters."

"Perhaps, but there are still some that would like to see me stripped of it," Laura muttered, but Katherine didn't hear. She was distracted by one of her riders, who, in his extremely intoxicated state, had begun to pledge his undying love to one of the barmaids. The young woman laughed, but a man sitting at another table did not seem to find it so amusing. Scowling, he stood and stormed over to the two, then grabbed the rider by the back of the collar and spun him around.

"Hey, that's my woman," he growled, then struck the drunk with a blow to the face that sent him flying.

Katherine stood and grabbed a bottle from another table, using it to club the man in the back of the head. "And that's my rider," she told the now unconscious ruffian, then ducked as the patron whose drink she had stolen swung at her. Several of her other riders lunged her attacker, and the whole tavern erupted into a brawl.

Laura remained seated, drinking her ale and watching tables being upturned and bodies flying through the air. "This is ridiculous," she muttered to herself, then dove to the floor as a barstool came flying in her direction. Growling an oath, she unsheathed her sword and dove into the fray. Striking out with the pommel and flat of her blade, she forced her way through the brawl until she found Katherine, who was in the process of laying several thugs low by hitting decidedly below the belt. "Must you always cause problems?" she asked, yelling so she could be heard over the commotion.

"But of course," Katherine replied in a cheery tone as she broke someone's nose. "It's in my nature."

The knight opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Fortunately, she was saved of having to reply by the sounds of shouting and whistles outside. A group of the Provost's guards burst through the door, and in a matter of moments threw everyone except the barkeep out of the tavern.

Katherine laughed from her seated position in the dirt as she watched the more shady patrons of the Dove scatter in all directions, pursued by the guards. "Aye, that's right, run!" she called mockingly. "A rogue'll never beat a rider in a tavern brawl!" With that, she took a long drink from a bottle of brandy she had snatched off a table before being shoved out of the tavern.

Laura shook her head as she sheathed her sword and dusted herself off, then looked around to see how the rest of the riders were faring. There were a few bruises and bloody noses, but most seemed relatively unharmed, although completely intoxicated.

"I think it might be time to return to the barracks," Darin suggested quietly, glancing at his commanding officer.

"Nay, the night is still young," Katherine protested, pushing herself up to her feet.

"Perhaps," the man replied, his tone bland, "but some of the others are looking rather worse for wear."

The group commander sighed. "Fine, fine," she consented. "You may take them back."

"Me, commander?" the redhead repeated, looking confused.

"Yes, you," Katherine replied firmly. "Laura and I are going to the ball, and you are my second in command, after all."

Darin furrowed his brow and looked as though he would like to argue, but simply said, "Yes, commander." Instructing some of the less muddle-headed riders to help the incapacitated ones, he led the group in the direction of the barracks.

"That man is entirely too sober," Katherine remarked, shaking her head.

"I am not going to the ball," Laura said bluntly.

"Yes, you are," the rider replied in an offhand, unbothered manner.

"No, I am not," the knight insisted. "And I don't think you should go, either. You're drunk."

"Not drunk," Katherine corrected patiently, sounding rather like a teacher instructing a promising but difficult student. "I am pleasantly tipsy. There's a world of difference."

"Still, you know how condescending some noblewomen can be," Laura pointed out. "Do you wish to invite their criticisms?"

"I wouldn't speak poorly of noblewomen, if I were you," the rider remarked. "You are one, after all."

"You know the sort I mean. Those gossiping, petty, convent-bred girls that seem to have nothing better to do than look down their noses at fighting women such as ourselves," the knight said, sounding exasperated.

"Aye, I know the sort you mean," Katherine replied, amusement clear in her voice. "But with all the fine spirits that I'm sure have been flowing since the ball began I shall hardly stand out. Besides, everyone knows that riders are rowdy, ill-mannered ruffians. Any rumors I manage to start will be nothing new."

"We're hardly dressed for a ball," Laura pointed out, changing her argument.

"As I said before, with all the fine spirits, I doubt anyone will notice," Katherine countered.

After a moment of silence, the knight sighed. "But I don't want to go," she said, her tone coming rather close to a whine.

"Nonsense," the rider said, throwing both her arms in the air and nearly sending the bottle of brandy she was holding soaring across the lane. "You'll enjoy yourself. There will be good food, handsome men, and plenty of wine to help you relax."

"I am relaxed," Laura protested.

"You are not," Katherine retorted. Pushing the bottle the knight's hands, she looked at her for a moment, then clapped her hands loudly. Laura jumped back a few feet in surprise. "See?" the rider said triumphantly. "You are entirely too tense. Have a few swigs of that and let's go to the ball," she instructed, gesturing to the bottle the other woman was now holding.

The knight looked at the bottle, then pulled out the cork with a sigh and took a few swallows. Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, she returned the drink to the rider. "Well, what are we waiting for?" she asked, sounding miserable.

Katherine laughed and clapped the knight on the back. "That's the spirit," she said, throwing the bottle to the side of the lane, where it hit a wall and shattered. She then nudged the other woman forward.

Laura obliged the nudge by beginning to move down the lane that lead to Palace Way, although reluctantly. "Why are you so determined to go to the ball?" she asked.

"Like I said before, there will be good food and handsome men," the rider replied. "I'm also friends with a few of the players that will be performing." Moving to the knight's side, she elbowed her gently. "Don't look so glum. You'll enjoy the evening if you just allow yourself to."

Laura did not reply, but her loud sigh clearly expressed her opinion.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Everything recognizable still belongs to Tamora Pierce. If I can't afford to pay for a lawsuit, I certainly can't afford to buy the rights from her.

**Chapter 2**

"How do you always talk me into these things?"

The ball was well under way, with nobles dancing and speaking politely with one another, the flutter of fans and dresses filling the ballroom with a mirage of shifting colors. Pages mingled with the older nobles, carrying trays or messages. Servants also darted about, but they hung close to the walls, careful to stay out of the way. A few noblemen leaned against the walls, talking amongst themselves as noblewomen, newly arrived from the convent, gossiped and giggled, glancing surreptitiously at the young bachelors. Their caution was laughable, however, as no one could know who they were. The ball was a masquerade.

"I feel as though I should be robbing travelers," Laura said, adjusting her black fabric mask so she could better see through the eye holes. "Katherine, this is ridiculous. I'm leaving."

The knight turned to leave, but Katherine caught her arm. "No, stay a little while longer," she insisted.

"Why?" Laura asked. "There's nothing to do, I'm tired, and this mask is making my face sweat. I want to go to bed."

"I thought knights were social creatures," the rider said, changing tactics. "Aren't you supposed to go to balls and be well mannered and dance and talk and flirt and the like?"

"Aye, but I've just returned home after spending three years stationed on the Scanran border," the knight replied. "I'm sure my absence will be understood and forgiven, if not preferred."

"What do you mean, 'if not preferred'?" Katherine inquired, furrowing her brow.

"It's nothing," Laura quickly responded. "I don't wish to talk about it."

"Oh, come now," Katherine cried indignantly. "You can't say something like that and then just leave it hanging."

"I can, and I did," the knight replied coolly.

The rider opened her mouth to protest, but was cut off by the sound of someone calling her name. Two young women, about the same age as the rider and the knight weaved their way through the crowd. Both were tall and slender, with a sort of grace to them. The first had straight brown hair that hung below her shoulders, and brown eyes to match. She was clad in a flowing red dress with loose sleeves that came to her elbow and were slit to leave her shoulders bare. The skirt rippled when she walked and hung almost to her feet, which were as bare as her shoulders. A few bracelets adorned her wrists and small hoops hung from her ears. The second bounded effortlessly along behind, her short, shaggy red hair flopping about as her stride carried her up and down. At first glance she could almost be mistaken for a young man, as her lean build was covered in men's clothing, but the softness of her freckled face and green eyes quickly dismissed any confusion.

"Amanda! Ashley!" Katherine exclaimed before enthusiastically throwing an arm around each of their shoulders and hugging them both at the same time. She had to reach up, however, as both were a good bit taller than she was.

Laura raised an eyebrow, but said nothing until the brunette noticed her. "Are you a friend of Katherine's?" she asked, but before the knight could answer, she promptly introduced herself. "My name is Amanda Baker, and this is Ashley Harper," she said, gesturing to the redhead, who smiled and waved shyly.

"Sir Laura of Coa's Wood," the woman of that name replied, bowing slightly, the winced as Katherine elbowed her sharply.

"Don't be so stiff," the rider admonished.

"I'm not being stiff," the knight protested. "I'm being polite."

"You're being stiff under the ruse of manners," Katherine replied, looking decidedly pleased with her deduction.

Laura looked as though she would like to argue, but that looked was replaced by one of surprise when she heard a bell.

"Oh, it's time for us to perform," Amanda said, glancing towards the front of the ballroom. "You should watch." With that she disappeared into the crowd again. Ashley once again smiled and waved, then followed.

Laura watched them move off, then shook her head slightly. "Is there any part of society that you don't have friends in?"

Katherine thought for a moment. "I don't know that I have any friends who are assassins, or if they are, they're keeping it quiet," she replied seriously.

The knight raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Shouldering through the crowds of nobles, she moved forward until she could see the clear area where the players would perform. The rider followed happily, but not nearly as agilely, and there were a few sounds of protest as she stepped on toes and bumped arms. By the time the two short women had managed to get close enough to where they could see the performance had already begun.

Ashley sat cross-legged on the floor, playing a slow gentle melody on a horn pipe. Amanda danced to the music, moving with fluid, natural grace. Her skirt rippled with the movement of her body, and the bracelets on her arms tinkled musically. Most were quiet as they watched, but from somewhere nearby Laura suddenly heard the harsh sound of the tongue of Scanra. Her horsetail whipped about as she searched for the speaker, instinctively reaching for her sword.

The knight's eyes came to rest on an odd pair, easily distinguished from the Tortallan nobles by their unusual garb. One was a man with pale blonde hair, cut close to his head, and light blue eyes. He was wearing a long fur robe over a leather tunic and breeches, and his feet were covered in tall boots. The woman with him had brown hair that was braided up in a crown around her head. She was clad in all black, with a leather bodice over a long chemise. Neither was wearing masks like the rest of the guests.

Laura turned to Katherine, hitting her rather forcefully in the shoulder to catch her attention. "What are Scanrans doing here?" she hissed.

The rider rubbed her shoulder and gave the knight a dirty look, then glanced over at the two persons in question. "They're a delegation from Scanra," she replied. "The fellow is Ambassador Gruder, the lady is Ilepse. They're here to help with the negotiations for the peace treaty."

"Negotiations!" Laura exclaimed loudly, causing a few nobles to look at her disapprovingly. She glared back at them, then returned her gaze to Katherine. "I give three years of my life to keep savages like them from ravaging our borders, and the Crown allows them into the Palace?" Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped when the rider simply nodded in affirmation.

Growling, she turned to glare at the two once again, then began to listen to their conversation. As with all knights stationed on at the Scanran border, she had been taught a bit of the language.

"See how they devote their time to such foolishness," Gruder was telling Ilepse in their native tongue as he nodded towards the performance. "How could we fail to crush such foes?"

"Calm yourself, my lord," Ilepse replied, also in Scanran.

"How can I be calm in the face of such decadence and waste?" the ambassador exclaimed. "Much longer here and I shall go mad."

"Do not worry," Ilepse said, her tone smooth despite the harsh sound of her language. "It is done. Soon we will return to Scanra."

"Good," Gruder said shortly, then put his hand under her chin. "Soon we shall be rid of this putrid place."

Laura, who had been shaking with rage as she listened to the two Scanrans speak, suddenly snapped. "This 'putrid place' is only so because you are here," she snarled in their tongue. She spoke slowly, as though she had to think about her words, but her point was quite clear. "Filth like you is a stain on the honor of this country, and I would die before compromise with the likes of you." With that, she spat on the floor between Gruder's boots, then turned and shoved her way through the crowd, ripping her mask off as she did.

Katherine, hear the angry words, turned to see her friend disappear. Blinking in confusion, she looked around, then looked upwards beseechingly with a sigh and followed. By the time she had pushed her way out of the crowd, the knight had already exited through the large doors of the ballroom and was storming down the hall. "Laura," she called out, jogging after the knight and removing her own mask. When she was close enough, she seized her by the arm. "Laura, what has gotten into you?"

"What has gotten into me?" the woman in question repeated, her tone incredulous. "What has gotten into me? What has gotten its way into the palace? How could the Crown send its knights, fine, strong men, all of them, full of promise, to die to protect Tortall, only to let the enemies they died to defend against to slither into this place of honor?" Gritting her jaw in fury, she suddenly unsheathed her sword and, in one fluid movement, shattered a vase that was decorating the hall. Finding nothing else to vent her anger on, she gave a roar of frustration and fury, then stood there panting, every muscle in her body taught and rigid.

Katherine stared at her friend. "Good Goddess," she muttered. "What did they do to you while you were guarding the border?"

"What did they do to me?" the knight said, repeating Katherine's question once more. "Oh, the Scanrans did nothing to me but give me a few cuts and bruises. The true injuries to me were dealt by my country men. But they slew my friends and butchered innocents under the protection of knights such as me." With that, she sheathed her sword her sword with a ring of steel and continued her furious march down the hallway.

The rider followed once again. "I know you've seen a lot of bloodshed," she began, a hint of impatience coloring her attempt at a soothing tone. "We all have. That's why we need this treaty, and it can only come to pass if both of the warring countries are represented. That's why the Scanrans have to be here."

The knight said nothing and continued to walk, pausing only once to pull a torch from its bracket on the wall. Reaching a heavy wooden door, she pushed it open to reveal a long, dark staircase.

"Where are we?" Katherine asked as the two descended the stairs, glancing around at her surroundings for the first time since she left the ballroom.

"The catacombs," Laura replied simply, her voice echoing slightly against the stone. Raising her torch, she set light to another that protruded from the wall. It took a moment, as its head was covered in dust and cobwebs. "This is where they bury members of the royal family."

"I've never been down here before," the rider replied, excitement clear in her voice. "Let's explore!" she suggested, their previous discussion obviously forgotten at the possibility of an adventure.

"There's not much to see," the knight admitted as she lit another torch. "I used to hide here as a page when I was upset or angry. Hardly anyone comes down here."

"Well, I can't imagine many people would enjoy spending their time with dead kings," the rider replied.

Laura shook her head. "It's not the tombs that keep people away," she said. "It's the Gate."

"The Gate?" Katherine repeated. "Why would people be afraid of a door?"

The knight gave her friend an impatient look. "The Gate of Idramm," she clarified. "The spell cast by the treacherous Duke Roger. Come now, you've heard the stories as often as I."

"Oh, I remember now," the rider exclaimed. "But I thought the Lioness destroyed it."

"She did," Laura said simply. "It's simply lines burned into the stone with a sword thrust into the middle now, but people are still afraid of it. I suppose they think there is still magic…" Her voice trailed off as she squinted into the darkness ahead. From deep within the catacombs, a faint, ethereal light glowed faintly.

"What in the name of Mithros is that?" Katherine asked, echoing Laura's unspoken thoughts.

"I have no idea," the knight admitted.

"Well, let's find out," the rider said promptly, then snatched the torch from her friend's hand and hurried forward.

"Wait," Laura called out, but realizing that Katherine would never listen, she hurried after her friend. Soon the tunnel opened up into a large room, on the floor of which was a glowing pattern of spiraling lines.

"So, this is the Gate?" the rider asked, moving to the edge of the strange design.

"Aye," the knight replied. Moving over to the wall, she found another torch in the dim light and pulled it from its wall bracket, causing a small shower of dust to fall on her. Returning to her friend's side, she lit her torch from Katherine's flame, then nearly dropped it when she saw what the new light had illuminated.

In the center of the Gate was a small crater where it appeared some of the stone had been blown away. The luminescence of the design was brightest around the scar in the floor.

Laura's hoarse whisper echoed eerily throughout the chamber. "Lightning's gone."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Once again, everything recognizable still belongs to Tamora Pierce, and I am still an unemployed high school student.

**Chapter 3**

Without a word to Katherine, Laura spun and sprinted towards the staircase. "It is done," she muttered to herself, repeating the Scanran woman's words. "I'll kill them." She pounded up the stone steps, stirring dust and cobwebs. Katherine's confused shouts echoed behind her, but she ignored them. Not bothering with the handle, the knight turned her shoulder to the door, slamming it back on its hinges.

The knight's breath came in short, hard gasps as she ran through the halls of the palace, although it was impossible to tell if her rapid breathing was from exertion or rage. Her left hand was clenched around the grip of her sword so tightly that her knuckles were white. There was a murderous look in her eyes, and anger and determination played across her face.

Laura barely slowed as she skidded around a corner, until she slammed into someone walking in the opposite direction. She instinctively rolled when she hit the floor, drawing her sword as she leapt to her feet. However, as her wild gaze settled on the person she had collided with, she relaxed from her defensive position and allowed the hand she was holding her sword in to fall to her side.

Pushing herself up from the floor was a young woman with wavy dark hair. She was wearing a deep green gown that seemed to be made of satin and silk, and the dark shade of the fabric contrasted sharply with her fair skin. Straightening her skirts, the young woman glanced at the knight with soft, brown eyes, then looked at the floor.

Despite her obvious eagerness to continue her charge through the halls, Laura bowed slightly. "Begging your pardon, lady," she said courteously in an obvious effort to be chivalrous, but there was impatience in her voice.

"No, no, it's my fault entirely," the young woman, obviously a noble, said quietly. "I should have been looking where I was going."

The knight made no effort to refute the noblewoman's claim, and made a move to leave when Katherine skidded around the corner, panting for breath. "What in the name of the Goddess was that about?" she asked haltingly, leaning against a wall.

"Lightning's gone," Laura replied, a note of fear in her voice.

"Why are you getting so excited about it?" Katherine asked, beginning to catch her breath. "It's just a rusty old sword."

"A rusty old sword?" the knight repeated. "That 'rusty old sword' belonged to one of the greatest warrior mages of our time. It was used to destroy a powerful spell and its magic is tied to that of the Dominion Jewel. It was forged by the Ancients. Who knows what sort of power it has, and now it's gone!" As she spoke, her voice grew louder and her tone more desperate with every word.

Both the rider and the noblewoman stared at the woman oddly for a moment before the latter hesitantly asked, "Have you been drinking?"

"Yes, but that's beside the point!" Laura practically shouted. "One of the most powerful magical relics in all of Tortall has been stolen, and it was the Scanrans that stole it! We have to stop them!" With that, she turned and began sprinting down the hall again.

Katherine threw her hands up in frustration, then grabbed the noblewoman's arm. "Come on," she said, pulling the other woman along as she followed the knight. "I'll need someone to help me convince His Majesty that she's mad and not responsible for any harm she inflicts on the Scanran ambassadors."

"I don't know that he will need much convincing," the noblewoman remarked, but she allowed herself to be pulled along.

Meanwhile, the ball continued, those present unaware of any danger greater than that of spilling a goblet of wine onto a garment of expensive material. However, the pleasant sound of idle chatter, laughter, and music was interrupted as a shout rang through the room.

"Where are they?" Laura shouted, causing people to stare at her as she stood in the main entrance. She looked mad indeed, her wild eyes flicking from one face in the crowd to another as her chest heaved from exertion and anger. "Where are those damn Scanrans?"

It was quiet for a moment, then Gruder stepped out of the crowd. "Come to insult us again, have you?" he asked, his tone arrogant. "Is this how Tortall treats all those who seek peace?"

"Liar!" the knight cried. "You are no emissary of good will. You are a filthy, thieving snake. Tell me what you have done with the sword, or I will put mine through your black heart!" Unsheathing her sword, she began to descend down the steps to the dance floor.

Katherine and the other noblewoman arrived to find several guards struggling to disarm Laura, who seemed to be trying to get past them without hurting them, all the while hurling curses at the Scanrans. Finally, her sword clattered across the floor as two guards pulled her hands behind her back, keeping her from escaping or doing any more harm. She continued to curse and yell that Lightning had been stolen and that the Scanrans were responsible until she was cut off by a shout.

"Enough!" bellowed Jonathan. Everyone, including the furious knight, turned and looked at the king. Despite his age, the ruler's voice still carried an unquestionable authority. The middle-aged monarch had risen to his feet, every inch of his proud bearing radiating anger. His deep blue eyes met Laura's, until she dropped her gaze to the floor under the ferocity of his glare.

"Only a few years ago I allowed you to keep your shield, lady knight, when many thought you should be stripped of it," Jonathan said slowly. "Is this how you repay my mercy?"

"But Your Majesty, they've stolen Lightning, I know they have," Laura protested, straining against the guards who held her.

"Do you have proof?" the king asked.

"No, Your Majesty, but-"

"Unless you have evidence to back your claims, I will listen to no more of your accusations," Jonathan interrupted. "Guards, take her to her chambers, and make sure she does not leave. She is under arrest until the ambassador leaves. I will deal with her then."

With a wave of his hand, he sat back down on his throne, clearly finished with the matter.

"Your Majesty, please," Laura yelled as she was dragged out of the ballroom. "Go to the catacombs. See for yourself. Please, you have to listen!" Her pleading shouts grew fainter as she was forced down the hallways, and eventually disappeared altogether. With a nod from the King, the musicians began to play again and the ball continued as though the interruption had never happened.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Still not mine…

**Chapter 4**

Katherine and the unnamed noblewoman watched as Laura was taken away by guards from a safe vantage point just outside the entrance of the ballroom. "Is she always so impulsive?" the noblewoman asked, looking rather concerned.

"Never," the rider replied, sounding puzzled. "She's one of the most sensible people I know." After a moment of silence, she looked at the noblewoman. "Speaking of people I know, I have no idea who you are."

"Oh, I'm sorry," the noblewoman apologized, sounding surprised and a bit embarrassed. "My name is Mary of Darkamelin," she said with a small curtsy.

"Katherine of Blythdin," the woman of that name replied, not bothering with formalities. "And the mad knight who was just arrested is Laura of Coa's Wood."

The noblewoman, or Mary, as it were, furrowed her brow. "I've heard that name before," she mused quietly, then her face lit up in recollection. "Oh, I remember now. She's the… oh dear."

"'Oh dear'?" the rider repeated suspiciously. "What do you mean, 'Oh dear'?"

Mary was quiet for a moment, as though considering how to phrase what she would say. "My father is the commander of a substantial force on the Scanran border," she began in a rather roundabout way. "A couple years ago he tried to have a lady knight stripped of her shield. He said she disobeyed direct orders and that she was insubordinate and a danger to herself and others. I do not know exactly what happened when he brought her before His Majesty, but the knight was allowed to keep her shield. My father claims that His Majesty was afraid of the growing liberal force and did not want to anger them by siding with a conservative and taking a lady knight's shield from her. After failing to have her shield removed, I believe my father sent the knight to a small fort in the Northern Grimhold Mountains to serve the rest of her time on border duty."

By the time the noblewoman finished speaking, Katherine was shaking her head. "That doesn't sound like Laura," she said. "I've never known her to question authority. She's always going on about obedience and duty and her precious Code of Chivalry."

Mary gave a slight shrug of her shoulders in reply. "I'm sorry," she replied simply. "Perhaps it's not the same person. Is your friend's coat of arms a howling wolf?"

"Aye, that's her," the rider said slowly.

"Then we are speaking of the same knight," Mary confirmed with a nod.

"The knight who is currently under arrest," Katherine pointed out. "Come on; let's see if we can speak with her."

"'We'?" repeated the noblewoman. "I don't even know her."

"Yes, but you must admit that you are curious about what she did," the rider replied with a grin. "Besides, if your father is an influential military commander, perhaps you can convince the guards to let us by."

"I fail to see the logic to that," Mary said, but Katherine had already seized her arm. Giving a sigh of resignation, the noblewoman allowed the rider to pull her down the hallway once again.

Laura's "chambers" were fairly easy to locate, as there was an armed guard standing outside the door. The rider confidently walked up to him, the noblewoman in tow, and said, "We'd like to speak with the prisoner."

The guard glanced down at the two women, who were significantly shorter than he was, then returned his gaze to a fixed spot on the opposite wall. "No one is to speak with the prisoner until His Majesty summons her," he replied, his voice flat and emotionless.

"He doesn't have to find out," Katherine said slowly, wiggling her eyebrows.

"No one is to speak with the prisoner until His Majesty summons her," the guard repeated.

"Oh, come now, is that all you can say?" the rider asked, folding her arms impatiently. "We just want to talk to her. That's hardly going to make a difference in matters.

The guard gave an aggravated sigh and finally fixed his gaze on Katherine. "This is hardly business for ladies to be involved in," he said condescendingly. "We've already one traitorous woman to deal with. The last thing we need is for her to be influencing others."

Katherine narrowed her eyes as the man talked down to her. "Deal with this, you chauvinistic pig," she said, then rammed her knee into the guard's groin. Unfortunately for him, he was not wearing an armored codpiece. Stepping over the man as he lay on the floor, curled up in a position on intense pain, she took his key ring and glanced back at Mary. "Coming?" she asked pleasantly, waving the key.

The noblewoman looked from the fallen guard to Katherine, then followed the rider as she unlocked the door and stepped inside her imprisoned friend's chambers.

Laura's back was turned to the door, and she did not even bother look to see who had entered. Her attention was directed out of the single window in her chambers, which overlooked the practice courts. Her cloak and leather tunic were draped carelessly over a chair, but other than that, the room was in complete order. She had obviously done nothing to vent her anger. In fact, she would have appeared completely calm if it were not for the white-knuckled grip she had on her sword hilt.

"They allowed her to keep her weapon?" Mary asked no one in particular, sounding surprised.

"They couldn't take it," the knight replied. Her voice was low and hoarse with restrained anger. "I wouldn't let them. Besides, what could I do with a sword while imprisoned? Throw myself upon it? That would only solve problems, in most peoples' opinions. Certainly in His Majesty's."

"Don't talk like that," Katherine admonished. "Your death would solve nothing."

The knight said nothing in reply and continued to stare out at the practice courts, which were lit by only a few torches. "They teach us as pages to love chivalry, to fight for it, to die for it if need be," she said suddenly. "Now I know why they prepare us to die to uphold the Code. It's so when we are named traitors for doing what is right we will feel like martyrs and go quietly to the noose."

Katherine shook her head. "That's why I'm a rider," she remarked quietly. "We don't have to hold ourselves to idealistic notions."

"Apparently I'm the only person who does," Laura replied. "I was naïve enough to be sincere in my oaths to His Majesty when he granted me my shield." Making a noise of disgust, she added, "It was for living by those vows that they tried to strip me of it."

"But you disobeyed direct orders," Mary pointed out, participating in the conversation for the first time. "Doesn't the Code of Chivalry say a knight must be loyal?"

"Not if following orders means leaving helpless people to die!" the knight shouted, slamming her fist against the windowsill. "I swore to protect the weak, not to abandon them to save my own life."

"What are you talking about?" the rider asked slowly.

Laura took a deep breath and released it shakily, obviously trying to compose herself. "When I first went away to war, I served under Commander Darkamelin, who is none too fond of lady knights," she began, her voice little more than a pained whisper. Mary winced slightly, but as knight's back was turned, she did not see and question it. "We had a few… disagreements, but nothing that couldn't be rectified with a few days of punishment work on my part. My aversion to him was no secret, but it was hardly traitorous. Anyway, my commanding officers received word of several groups of Scanran raiders banding together. That alone would have posed a threat, but they were gathering near Snowbreak Canyon, which is one of the only passable routes through the Grimhold Mountains. At the southern end of the canyon is a fairly prosperous town called Snowbreak, same as the pass, that serves as a bit of a trading post and provides the army with some of its supplies. The officers assumed that the town would be the raiders' target, so a small force was sent out to defend it, under the command of Darkamelin. I was part of that force. The raiders had already entered the pass by the time we arrived, so we had to fight in the canyon. The Scanrans outnumbered us, but we had better training and arms. Unfortunately, we were all mounted, so we could respond quickly to the threat, but we could not maneuver as well on horseback as the raiders could on foot in such a narrow battlefield. They just killed us one by one with arrows and spears. Many good men died that way, trapped and helpless. After slaughtering over half of us, the Scanrans began to rally for a charge, so Darkamelin ordered a retreat. We were expected to save ourselves by leaving the townspeople could die. I couldn't obey such a command. When I was sure I wouldn't be trampled by my retreating comrades, I dismounted and stood my ground. I knew that I was going to die, but I also knew that I had vowed to defend the weak, and that a knight always honors her word. Some of my friends who had also been chosen must have seen me, because before the Scanrans attacked, I had other knights by my side. Quite a bit of the force returned on foot, and we met the raiders' charge. It was a bloody fight, but the Scanrans retreated with only a few more casualties on our side. After the battle, I was seized and returned to the main force mounted on my charger with my hands bound and my reins lashed to Darkamelin's saddle. He tried to have my shield taken from me, telling the king that I had disobeyed orders and started a rebellion. I never asked for the others to help me," she insisted, turning to look at the two other women for the first time. "I was willing to die alone for what I thought was right. Instead I was humiliated and sent to serve the rest of my time at war in a rundown fort as far away as Darkamelin could manage." She gave a frustrated sigh and returned her gaze to the window. "And now it'll happen all over again, but this time they'll take my shield and my freedom."

For a moment the room was still and quiet, then the guard entered, walking unsteadily and holding his privates, but still managing to look rather intimidating. "I'll get you for this, you dirty wench," he roared, moving towards Katherine in a threatening manner.

The rider seized Mary's arm and dodged around the guard, pulling the noblewoman along as she fled. Giving chase, the guard pulled the door closed behind him and locked it, leaving Laura alone once again.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Again, not mine…

**Chapter 5**

Katherine and Mary managed to lose the guard by fleeing the palace and hiding in the stables. After waiting for a quarter of an hour or so to be certain that he didn't return, the two women climbed down from the hayloft.

"Sorry for the disruption," the rider told the stablehand, smiling apologetically. "It was a bit of an emergency."

"It doesn't matter," the stablehand replied morosely. "Everything else has gone wrong anyway."

"What do you mean?" Mary asked as she shook straw from her skirts and pulled it from her hair.

The stablehand gestured to an empty stall. "The ambassador's 'orse was stolen," he explained. "Great mean beast, it was. I'd be glad t' see it go, but I'm sure t' be blamed for it. They'll flog me, at the very least, and if I 'ad money for bettin' I'd wager they'll turn me out. I won't be able t' find other work; I don't know nothin' but 'orses."

Katherine frowned. "If it was so mean, how did someone steal it?" she asked, glancing at the stall.

"That's the thing," the stable hand replied, frustration clear in his voice. "The only folks I've seen able t' get close t' it are those Scanrans, but why would they'll steal from one of their own?"

"Unless they didn't steal it," the noblewoman muttered quietly into the rider's ear, receiving a nod of agreement in reply.

Katherine patted the stablehand on the shoulder, as he was looking quite distraught. "I don't think that they'll flog you, but if they turn you out, go see if you can find work with the riders," she advised the man. "They can always use another pair of hands to help look after their mounts." With that, she turned and began walking back towards the palace, Mary close on her heels.

"Perhaps your friend is not mad after all," the noblewoman said once the two were out of earshot.

"No, I'm quite certain she's mad, but only as mad as any knight," the rider replied. "I don't think we will be able to convince the king to see that, though."

Mary frowned. "No, especially when Ambassador Gruder is still here," she admitted. "What guilty man remains in the place where he committed his crime?"

"A clever one," responded Katherine. "He must have sent one of his servants away with the sword. I doubt anyone bothered to count them, though, and we don't have any real proof."

"Why is your friend so certain that it was the Scanrans who stole the sword?" the noblewoman asked. "It could have disappeared long she discovered that it was gone."

"Well, the Gate of Idramm was glowing," Katherine said slowly. "I don't know much about spells and such, but I don't imagine that things glow for extended periods of time unless they are directly enchanted to do so. Other than that, I don't know why she is so sure." She thought for a moment, then realization dawned on her. "Laura was speaking with the Scanrans before she ran off. Perhaps they said something that made her think it was their doing."

"So, her accusations might be based entirely on hearsay?" the noblewoman asked.

The rider nodded slowly. "Aye," she admitted. "Still, she's not the sort to jump to conclusions. She must have been reasonably certain."

Mary gave a soft humming noise as a thoughtful expression crossed her face. "Let's suppose that your friend's theory is correct," she said after a moment. "If the Scanrans did steal the sword, where would they take it?"

"To Scanra, I suppose," Katherine replied. "If I had managed to steal a powerful magical weapon, I'd want to go somewhere safe to study it."

"Then even if the king believed your friend, he would be powerless to act," Mary said with a sigh. "Ordering a force into Scanra to retrieve the sword could be considered an act of war, and an act of war during peace negotiations would be a diplomatic disaster."

The rider walked quietly for a moment, then a mischievous smile crept slowly across her face. "What if the king didn't order them?" she asked.

"Then he could truthfully deny knowledge of the group's actions and it wouldn't be an issue," the noblewoman replied hesitantly. "Unfortunately, those who acted without his approval could face imprisonment, possibly even charges of treason." Furrowing her brow, she looked at the other woman. "Why do you ask?" she inquired, but received no response but a wide grin.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Not mine, except for any snarky remarks the characters make. Those are mine.

**Chapter 6**

Laura stared at the ceiling of her room, her eyes half-closed and unblinking. She was lying on her bed, her sheathed sword unbuckled from her belt and at her side. She was still wearing her shirt and trousers, having removed only her boots, and she was lying on top of the blankets as opposed to under them.

Sighing suddenly, the knight turned to rest on her side, her back to the window. She gathered her weapon into her arms and pulled it close to her body, holding it as a child might hold a favorite doll. Slowly, her eyes began to close and she fell into a light sleep.

A soft _clink_ at the window roused Laura from her slumber. Rolling on to her back, she glanced at the casement, but saw nothing but the moon and stars. The position of the moon testified that it was past midnight, so she closed her eyes in an attempt to go back to sleep. After a few minutes, there was another _clink_. Once again, the knight glanced at the window, but it was still empty. She allowed herself to doze off, but was soon awoken once again, this time by the crash of breaking glass.

Leaping out of the bed, Laura drew her sword, glancing about wildly. However, it soon became clear that she was alone in the room. Relaxing from her defensive position, she lowered her weapon and looked at the widow. A few of the panes had been shattered and the glass was scattered across the floor, along with what appeared to be the remains of a flower pot, complete with soil and vegetation.

After staring at the shards of pottery quizzically, the knight moved cautiously toward the casement, careful to avoid stepping on anything sharp with bare feet. She successfully reached the window without injuring herself, and, unbolting the latch, she pushed the window open. Glancing down, she was greeted by the sight of Katherine and Mary, both mounted, and a riderless horse. The rider was astride her pinto pony, grinning cheerily up at her friend, and the noblewoman was wearing a rather shocked expression as she looked down at the other woman from the back of a palomino mare.

"You didn't have to break the window," she said, her tone both surprised and admonishing.

"Well, it got her attention, didn't it?" Katherine replied, still grinning. "Come on, then, don't just stand there," she called up to Laura. "We've got to go after that rusty old sword you got yourself so worked up over."

"What are you talking about?" the knight asked. "And what do you mean, don't just stand there? What am I supposed to do?"

"Jump," the rider replied simply.

"Jump?" Laura repeated incredulously.

"Aye, jump," Katherine affirmed with a nod. "On to Chester, here," she added, patting the third horse on the withers. It was a large chestnut gelding, well muscled and bearing a few battle scars.

"So you want me to jump out of a window and fall several yards on to the back of my bad-tempered charger?" the knight asked, obviously unhappy with the idea.

"Heroes do it all the time in stories," the rider remarked lightly.

"Perhaps, but I'm no hero, and this is no story," Laura replied.

"Do you have any other ideas of how to escape?" Katherine asked patiently.

The knight grumbled quietly under her breath, then left the window, still careful of the shards of glass and clay, and pulled on her boots, tunic, and traveling cape. After buckling her sheathed sword to her belt, she returned to the casement. Firmly gripping both sides, she stepped onto the sill and looked down with a gulp. After licking her dry lips, she set her jaw and leapt out into space.

And missed the saddle. With a rustle of leaves and a snapping of twigs, Laura found herself in a bush, humiliated but unharmed. Cursing, she untangled herself, Katherine's laughter ringing in her ears. She was allowed a small bit of vengeance, however, as the rider's giggle fit unbalanced her and she fell from her own saddle and hit the ground with an 'oof.' Mary simply looked from one woman to the other, then shook her head in obvious bewilderment.

After a few moments, everyone was mounted once again and the three women were galloping out of the palace gates. "I hope you have some sort of a plan," Laura remarked to Katherine, her voice loud so to be heard over the clatter of hooves.

"A bit of one, aye," the rider replied airily.

The knight rolled her eyes, then glanced at Mary. "Why is she here?" she asked. "She doesn't look like she'd be much good in a fight."

"Well, we're going to try to avoid conflict as much as possible, and Mary here speaks Scanran," Katherine replied, glancing at the noblewoman and looking proud of her discovery of a use for her.

"I speak Scanran," Laura retorted.

"I think we'll need a bit more fluency than curses and soldier talk," the rider replied delicately.

The knight snorted, but said nothing more on the subject. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"To the Dove," Katherine replied. "We've a few more recruits to retrieve."

"Three is enough, especially if we aren't going to be fighting," Laura said dismissively.

"Aye, but we need some sort of cover," the rider insisted. "A Tortallan knight, rider, and noblewoman will not go unnoticed in Scanra."

"So what do you suggest, then?" the knight asked.

Katherine grinned impishly. "We're going to be players."


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Once again, anything recognizable belongs to Tamora Pierce. Don't sue me for my graduation money. It's really not worth it.

**Chapter 7**

The three women arrived at the Dove and hour or so before dawn with a clatter of horseshoes against cobblestones. A stablehand sleepily poked his head out of the stables, but if he noticed that two of the women had been there a few hours before, he gave no sign of it.

"I spent all of my page years avoiding this place, and now as a knight I find myself here twice in one night," Laura grumbled as she swung out of her saddle, her cape rustling and stirring the still night air.

"You never came here as a page?" Katherine asked as she also dismounted. "I thought sneaking down to the Dove was some sort of rite of passage for you knights in training."

"The only rite of passage I've ever had an interest in was the Chamber of the Ordeal," the knight replied dismissively. "Pointless rule breaking has no appeal to me."

"Says the fugitive," Mary remarked quietly as she gracefully slid off her mare's back, prompting a giggle from the rider.

Laura glared at the two before admitting, "You've some wit, I'll give you that. That's more than I can say for most courtiers."

A confused look flitted across the noblewoman's face, but Katherine laughed and patted her on the shoulder. "You've received your first double-edged compliment from Laura," she said merrily. "Congratulations."

The remark did not seem to make matters any more clear for Mary, and Laura simply grunted at the remark. "Enough of this," she growled. "Let's go rouse these friends of yours and be on our way."

The rider stuck out her tongue out at the knight, but handed her reins to the stablehand, who had come over to investigate, and walked into the tavern. The two others followed suit.

After a few words to the bartender, who at first would give them nothing but dark looks, Mary and Laura stood by as Katherine pounded on a door, their coin pouches a bit lighter. A few groans could be heard through the wood, and soon the door swung open, revealing a very irritated-looking Amanda wearing naught but a shift and brandishing Ashley's hornpipe.

"If you don't-" she began threateningly, then stopped when she saw Katherine, who smiled and waved. Sighing, the dancer allowed the hand holding her "weapon" to drop to her side and leaned against the doorframe. "Do you know what time it is?" she asked, sounding exasperated.

"Aye, and I suspect you do as well, so I don't know why you're asking," the rider replied cheerily. "We need your help."

"Can't it wait till morning?" Amanda moaned.

"'Fraid not," Katherine replied, gesturing towards Laura. "She's stumbled across a theft, only the king seems to think she's a troublemaker and had her arrested, so Mary and I broke her out, quite literally. So now we're all fugitives and need to get to Scanra." Taking a deep breath, the rider finished her monologue and looked at Amanda expectantly.

The dancer blinked a few times, then shook her head. "Why don't you three come sit down and see if you can't explain all this a bit better," she said, moving out of the doorway. Ashley was sitting on her pallet looking at the four curiously, then scooted over and made room when the three entered. Katherine plopped down next to her while Mary sat a bit more elegantly on Amanda's bed. Laura remained standing, leaning against the wall.

"I'll go get Rick," Amanda sighed. "He's sleeping in the next room, but I suppose he should hear this." After she left, the four women could hear the dancer banging on another door and shouting. A few groggy shouts answered hers, but she soon returned, a young man with her. He was a little bit taller than the dancer, and had similar brown eyes and hair, but his was cut short and stuck up and out at odd angles. He obviously only slept in his trousers, as he was shirtless.

"This is Rick," Amanda pointed out, gesturing to the man. "He recites things: poems, stories, the like."

Rick ran a hand through his hair and looked around the room, a confused look on his face. "When I went to my room for the night, there were only two women in here," he remarked. "Why are their five now?"

"That's what they're going to explain now," the dancer replied, shooting Katherine a meaningful look. The rider promptly launched into a detailed description of the night's events, with Mary and Laura interrupting to add something every once and a while.

"And so, we need to go to Scanra, but we need some sort of disguise," Katherine finished. "We were hoping we could convince you to travel with us, and that way we could claim to be a troupe of players."

Amanda gave a low whistle. "You've gotten yourself into a real spot of trouble," she told Laura. "I saw your little row with the Ambassador, but I didn't know you hated Scanrans that much."

"That's what tends to happen when you fight in a war," the knight replied, folding her arms over her chest.

"Are you sure the Scanrans took Lightning?" Ashley asked. "I don't want to take on an entire country only to find that this was all some sort of misunderstanding."

"Sure enough," Mary responded, glancing at the musician.

"Besides, we can't just do nothing," Katherine interjected, waving her arms.

"If nothing else it'll be a bit of excitement," Rick remarked, stroking his strong chin contemplatively.

Amanda glanced at her two fellow performers, then turned to Katherine with a smile. "Alright, it looks like you have your disguise," she said, a hint of laughter in her voice as she held out her hand.

The rider shook the dancer's hand enthusiastically, grinning back at the woman. "I knew I could count on you," she replied cheerily.

Laura glanced out the window, where the first rays of sun were beginning to show over the horizon. "I hate to interrupt, but we need to get going," she said flatly. "Someone is bound to check my chambers eventually, and I'd like to be well on my way before the king realizes I'm gone."

"We'd best be one our way, then," Amanda replied with a nod.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Still not mine…

**Chapter 8**

Darin made his way through the palace halls, grumbling quietly under his breath. Noon sunlight streamed through the windows, the bright light a strong contrast to the dark look on the redhead's face.

Pausing at a door, the young man straightened his tunic then knocked. The sound of speaking penetrated the wood, and after a moment the door opened. A servant glanced at him curiously.

"I- I need to speak with His Majesty," Darin said, stuttering slightly as he pulled out a piece of parchment sealed with the Blythdin coat of arms from where it was thrust through the back of his belt.

"His Majesty is meeting with the Duke of Naxen at the moment," the servant replied, polite but cold. "It is a diplomatic emergency." With that, he began to shut the door, but the rider stopped him.

"It's regarding the 'diplomatic emergency'," he pointed out.

The servant gave the young man a mildly suspicious look, then gave a slight nod and closed the door. The sound of speaking once again penetrated the wood, then the door opened again. "You may enter," the servant said, stepping aside.

Darin nodded to the servant, then did as he was bade. Straightening his tunic once again, he looked up to see the king of Tortall sitting behind a large wooden desk, and the duke of Naxen, one of his closest friends and most trusted advisors standing to one side.

"Well, what is it you need to say?" Jonathan asked, his voice calm and composed, but deep lines in his forehead betrayed his anxiety and impatience.

The rider went white under his freckles, but stepped forward and set the folded parchment on the monarch's desk with an only slightly shaking hand. "A letter from Group Commander Blythdin, your Majesty," he mumbled nervously. "She gave it to me last night, but told me not to deliver it to you until today."

Jonathan glanced at Gareth, who shrugged slightly, then returned his attention to the redhead in front of him. "And who might you be?" he inquired.

"Her second in command, Darin Staver," the young man of that name replied.

The king gave a contemplative grunt, then broke the seal and opened the letter. Clearing his throat authoritatively, he began to read it aloud.

_"Your Majesty, I'm sure you have by now realized that your prisoner has disappeared, and I apologize for the mess in her chambers. Flower pots don't seem to hold up very well when they are tossed through windows. However, I have already become distracted from the purpose of this letter, for which I also apologize. Since I am sure you are a very busy man, ruling a country and whatnot, I shall cut to the chase. I helped Laura escape, and we are now on our way to Scanra with a few others. We have reason to believe that the Scanran delegation party has actually been sent to steal Lightning. Seeing as the sword is missing, we decided it would not be in the best interests of Tortall to wait for proper diplomatic __proceedings__, and have gone after the sword ourselves. All members of the expedition are perfectly aware that the leaders of our country will have to deny all knowledge of our actions, as what we are doing would probably be __interpreted__ as an act of war otherwise. I just felt as though you should know that we only have our fellow Tortallans interests at heart, and that you need not send out a search party to stop us. __I doubt you would find us in any case, and it would save a great deal of effort and __embarrassment__ on your part. Your humble servant, Katherine of Blythdin."_

Dropping the letter onto his desk, King Jonathan rubbed his temples and gave an exasperated sigh. Gareth, on the other hand, seemed to be trying to hide a smile under his graying mustache.

"If nothing else, you must admire her pluck, Jon," the Duke remarked.

"I would rather she had less pluck and more sense," the monarch admitted.

"Come now, Jon, you know that if Alanna were still alive she would do the same thing, gods bless her spirit," the Duke of Naxen retorted. "No house arrest or royal decree would stop her from going after her sword."

"Well, the Lioness is no longer with us, and with that being the case we have no champion to send after Blythdin and Coa's Wood," Jonathan pointed out.

"Perhaps you could send Sir Keladry to bring them back," Gareth suggested. "She has proved herself an able tracker in the past."

The king gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "No, she is in the Yamani islands celebrating her marriage to that Masbolle sergeant," he reminded his advisor. "They would be long gone by the time she received word and returned."

Darin, long forgotten, opened his mouth to speak, when suddenly a servant burst through the door, a bloody knife in his hand. "Your majesty, the Scanran delegation has disappeared, and the stablehand was found with this in his back," he panted, stabbing the tip of the blade into the top of the king's desk.

Jonathan pulled the dagger out of the wood and studied it. It had a single edged straight blade and a wooden, hiltless handle.

"That looks like a Scanran knife," Gareth pointed out, obviously shocked. "Which must mean…"

"A knife is not enough to say the delegation did not just leave and the stablehand's death was a coincidence," the king interrupted.

"So you will send no one after them?" Darin asked.

The monarch ran a hand through his silvery hair, then sighed and shook his head. "No, I cannot," he replied sorrowfully. "However, this makes me much more inclined to believe that Coa's Wood may have had the right measure of the ambassador."

"Perhaps you should just trust that she and my commander are doing the right thing, then, and let them do what they feel they must?" Darin remarked cautiously.

Jonathan furrowed his brow, sighed again, and gave a single nod.

AN: Please don't kill me. I know I haven't updated for a long time, and that now that I finally have I've killed off Alanna, but it'll work out, I promise. –hides-


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Anything recognizable is not mine. The poem is, though. Try not to hold it against me.

**Chapter 9**

"Now, if you three are going to convincingly pose as players, you're going to have to act the part," Amanda said from her place sitting in the back of the gaily painted wagon the players travelled with. It was mid afternoon, and the small party had slowed a bit when it seemed that no one was coming after them. "Do you have any talents or skills that could pass as a performance?"

"I like to sing," Katherine replied excitedly. "And tumble. And even dance a bit."

"She'd make a marvelous jester," Laura remarked dryly, speaking up for the first time since the group left the Dove. The rider made a face at her, but the fact that she was riding a few feet lower on her pony than the knight was on her charger took away from the effect a bit.

"And what do you do?" the dancer asked after chuckling a bit at her friend's indignation.

"I kill things," Laura replied flatly, her tone making it quite clear that there would be no further discussion on the subject.

Frowning, Amanda turned her attention to Mary. "What about you, lady?"

The noblewoman fidgeted a bit before answering. "I sing a little, and I play the harp," she replied quietly.

"Well then, we shall have to see about finding you a harp," the dancer replied, giving the younger woman an encouraging smile.

Mary opened her mouth to reply, when Katherine let out a triumphant shout. "I know what you can do!" she exclaimed, pointing at Laura.

"And what might that be?" the knight asked, sounding completely unenthusiastic.

"You can recite some of your poetry," the blonde replied, looking very pleased herself.

"Poetry?" Amanda repeated incredulously, staring at the gruff lady knight.

"Aye, poetry," Katherine confirmed, nodding. "She used to write sonnets and the like all the time."

"Aren't sonnets usually love poems?" the dancer asked.

"Not always!" Laura growled, blushing furiously.

"Yours usually were," the rider countered, earning herself an extremely dirty look from the other woman.

"That was a long time ago, when I was silly and heartsick," the knight grumbled, still a rather bright shade of red.

"Aw, did someone break your heart?" Amanda asked slightly mockingly, using a tone one would use when speaking to a small child.

"No," Laura replied gruffly. "I broke a few hearts, though."

"You did not," Katherine scoffed.

"I did so," the knight retorted indignantly. "Well, one. He was a university student who took a fancy to me. I've no idea why, but he did. He was a nice lad, sweet, thoughtful, eager to please. He would've made a wonderful hound, but I need a man with a bit of iron to him."

"That's all well and good, but it has nothing to do with performing," Amanda interrupted. "Let's hear some of this poetry of yours."

"I'm afraid I've forgotten it all," Laura replied, staring at Chester's ears.

"That's a lie," Katherine snapped. "Now out with it."

The lady knight gave an exasperated sigh, then began to recite in a monotone voice.

"Alas, when heart and mind o'er love collide,

Why must passion always the victor be?

Why not cool thought, where reason doth abide?

Should not he over love have mastery?

But nay, tis heart, with fire, lust, and zeal,

That hath wrongly usurped the mind's domain.

The foolishness of love the mind reveals,

But those wise warnings are all cried in vain.

For love is well beyond the grasp of thought,

Beyond the reach of wits. Tis only heart

With flame and tears by which love can be taught

To not just pain, but warmth and joy impart.

So when the mind doth love confound and strain,

Allow the foolish, lovesick heart to reign."

When she finished, Amanda nodded approvingly. "Aye, that'll do nicely," she said. "Just put a bit of feeling into it, and it'll be lovely."

"I'm a knight, not a bard," Laura scoffed. "I've no use for mournful looks or wistful sighs."

"Well, just pretend you do, then," the dancer replied. "That what acting is all about. When we find a harp for Mary, she can play while you recite, and it'll be perfect." The knight gave an unhappy grunt, but didn't argue the subject any further.

"I suppose we'll need different clothing," Mary pointed out softly as she glanced at formal gown she was still wearing from the previous night's festivities.

Amanda frowned. "Aye, that gown won't do, and the crests on those tunics aren't much better."

"Don't worry, we should reach a town before nightfall," Rick called from the front of the wagon, where he was sitting as Ashley drove the horse. "We should be able to find something on a clothesline that'll do."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Laura grumbled.

"Oh, don't worry," Amanda said reassuringly. "We wouldn't dream of stealing something in front of a knight." However, before Laura could look relieved, she added, "We'll wait until you're asleep."

The knight groaned as Katherine threw back her head and laughed.

AN: Yes, I know I haven't updated since August. College happened.


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